Chapter 9
Following the rather extremely reasonable realisation from Lily, the kitchen had fallen into a startled silence. James could tell that Sirius had reached the same conclusion as her, but Remus’ expression had been comically surprised and resigned at the same time.
“I didn’t actually kidnap her,” Marlene explained, laughing her ‘guilty laugh’, as their parents had been fond of calling it. “I only detained her ability to leave.”
“That’s kidnapping,” said Sirius amusedly.
“She has plenty of ways to try to escape,” she defended herself.
“Which is notoriously what kidnapping victims try to do,” Sirius said slowly, a little mockingly. “Your place will be destroyed, by the way. Did you think of that?”
“Oh shit.”
“That’s what you’re concerned about?” exclaimed Lily.
“I rather agree with you there, Evans,” said James. “Kidnapping is wrong,” he admonished Marlene and Sirius both.
He couldn’t deny that it was a little funny though.
“Marlene was trying to defend herself,” Sirius argued. “Extenuating circumstances?” he tried.
“Yeah! I was in mortal danger, if you’ll recall.”
Remus spoke for the first time in a while, “We can’t deny that she might give us some information.”
“Oh God, you want to interrogate her?” Lily asked incredulously. James shared a brief, mirthful look with Sirius, but had to turn away quickly before a laugh escaped his lips.
It was strange, that they had the urge to laugh, that they could make light of the circumstances, but James was glad of it. He didn’t want to dwell on what had happened. He could still feel his body jerking involuntarily. Not constantly, but every few minutes. It wasn’t painful, exactly, it was more annoying than anything else. It hindered his ability to forget about last night, and all those years ago.
The fact that Sirius seemed to notice was worse.
He could also still feel Sirius’ arms around him, Sirius’ chest beneath his head, Sirius’ breath on his hair.
He didn’t will those feelings away.
“Not interrogate, ask questions if she happens to still be at Marlene’s and if she wants to answer,” Remus answered.
Sirius snickered, “if Marlene’s is still standing, you mean,” he said.
“And she doesn’t attack again,” Marlene provided. “She was a pain to fight the first time, you know? She’s very sneaky and she uses a lot of… things to her advantage.”
James wanted to laugh at the way she said ‘things’. He shared confused frowns with Lily and Sirius, but neither seemed to want to ask. Sighing, he said, “things?”
“You know, things,” responded Marlene meaningfully. “Face–, mouth–, she uses things, alright?”
“She uses her… mouth?” James tried. “To… cast spells?”
“And hands. Her hands. Distraction tactics, rings,” she said, as if that explained anything.
Still snickering, Sirius got up from the table, “are we going, then?”
“Are you mental? We need to prepare first! For an attack or whatever,” Lily protested.
“I doubt Marlene left her with a wand,” Remus reasoned.
“Well I didn’t… not leave her with her wand,” Marlene said, squirming in her seat. Sirius cackled, Remus sighed.
“Marlene Mirabel Mckinnon. I promise you–,”
“I hid it from her! I’m not stupid,” she rolled her eyes. “I thought it might be trackable so I made the executive decision to hide it.”
“That’s actually… rather clever of you, Mckinnon,” Sirius noted, impressed.
James’ best friend senses rose at Sirius’ tone, “Marlene is excellent at planning shite,” he said, not unkindly, he hoped, but certainly less warmly than his usual tone. “She always measures risks. She is always clever.”
Sirius’ look of regret was enough for him to feel a tad sorry for speaking to him that way, but people tended to underestimate Marlene because of her tendency to make light of everything, and the little madness she displayed from time to time. No matter how much he appreciated Sirius, he wouldn’t stand for him to dismiss his best friend’s intelligence that way.
“My knight in shining armour,” Marlene swooned right into James’ arms.
“My poor dragon in distress,” he answered, in the same sickly sweet tone.
“What would I do without you defending my honour, belovedest?”
“Sneeze into your tiny t-rex arms and burn them to a crisp, probably.”
“And awful, awful mountain trolls with an unhealthy obsession with their hair might make fun of my poor foresight, no?”
At this, James couldn’t help but face Sirius, who looked offended by Marlene’s speech. Although he wasn’t sure if it was the troll comment or the hair comment. Restoring her to her feet and standing up himself, he responded, “or thoughtless wizards might be surprised you can breathe fire at all.”
Sirius frowned, he seemed a little embarrassed, but still didn’t apologise. His gaze travelled to the floor.
“Sirius never apologises,” said Marlene cheerfully. To James, in a lower tone “it’s fine, I know he didn’t mean it like that.” Then she addressed the rest, “we’re going, then?”
They all had prepared quickly but efficiently for… anything, really. Comfortable shoes, in case the place really was destroyed, plasters and potions in case of injuries, a tiny bomb in case of… God knew what.
They’d also explained the basic layout of the house to Sirius, Lily and Remus, who’d never visited the Mckinnon’s, in case they needed to make a quick exit.
Armed with wands, including himself, they’d all whispered last second warnings and reminded each other to be alert.
“We don’t want her to be startled,” Remus had said. “We can’t use the floo.”
“Nor apparate,” Lily had added. “Too noisy,” she explained to James.
“He knows, Evans,” Sirius admonished.
“Again with the lack of faith,” Marlene complained, but it was good-humouredly enough that James didn’t feel the need to defend her. She reached inside of her sleeve and produced a gold pendant in the form of a water droplet, not bigger than his little finger.
“Your lucky charm!” James exclaimed.
“It’s been handy,” she said with a fond smile. It made him feel loved, that smile. Marlene wasn’t one to hand those lightly. He hadn’t seen her give one of them to anyone but himself for a long time. Perhaps it was wrong, but he sort of relished in that. She was his best friend, and he was hers. “Everybody, place your finger on it.” Everybody did.
“You think this will give us luck?” Sirius asked mistrustfully.
Marlene rolled her eyes, “it’s a portkey, Sirius. Keep up.”
“Yes, do keep up, Sirius,” James teased.
“Have you ever used one before?” Sirius asked him, and when he shook his head he explained, “it’s uncomfortable, the sensation. But you won’t lose hold of the pendant, even if you feel that you are. Take a deep breath when I tell you.”
The others seemed surprised at Sirius’ words, but he didn’t know why.
For months, James had been under the tutelage of one Mr. Sirius, and he’d never once had to ask for information; it was always provided. Sirius was thoughtful, mindful of him not growing up in a Wizarding home. And it never felt patronising; not as it tended to be with Lily. He had learnt to appreciate her brand of teaching, however. She didn’t do it on purpose, he had come to realise. It was just the way she spoke.
Sirius and Lily were the most understanding of his knowledge, or lack thereof, when it came to magical objects and practices. They never failed to teach him, or show him, if the case required it.
Before he could ask about their surprise, however, Sirius said, “deep breath,” and he felt a tug in his stomach, as if a hook had been there, unfelt before, and was now pulling him towards the pendant.
As was everyone else, apparently. For one second, he thought he’d collide heads with Sirius and Marlene, but he didn’t.
Suddenly, they were spinning very fast, it was disorientating. His finger seemed to have glued itself on the pendant, but he could feel the force of the spins trying to separate him from it. He was frozen, however, in one single position, almost crouched, one arm extended. The world was now a black and grey blur. It wasn’t pleasant. His whole body felt squeezed, as if he had been swimming too deep underwater. He could feel his mind slipping, trying to pull him under the weight of his memories, terrible memories.
Something touched his hand, and he would have jumped, startled, had he not realised whose hand it was. But he would have known Sirius’ hand on his anywhere, by touch alone. He’d know that heat, fire burning under a thin layer, the softness of the skin, the reassuring squeeze, the ring that dug into his hand.
He didn’t think about the comfort that it brought him. He only basked in it.
The pressure eased around them, and all five of them landed in a heap, right on the Mckinnon’s library, with muted exclamations.
The room, so bright in James’ memories, was grey and lifeless now. Dull, almost. Clouds of dust raised by the disturbance.
Marlene hadn’t been there in a long time. This wasn’t time to ask, he thought. He didn’t even need to look at her face to know that.
“Everyone ready?” asked Sirius, his eyes fixed on James.
Not for the first time, he could almost imagine something in Sirius’ eyes. Full sentences, to be precise. They seemed to be asking ‘are you alright?’, ‘what can I do?’, ‘tell me what to do’.
Regardless of if he was delusional or Sirius was actually asking those questions with his eyes, he knew that Sirius wasn’t fooled by his attempts to conceal his thoughts, the memories that plagued him, his discomfort.
But he was fine, by the way.
Sure, seeing Riddle again had shaken him up a bit. And of course that the–, the curse had left him feeling weak and jumpy. And his nightmares the previous night had been rather intense. And he was spacing out quite a bit today. And he couldn’t stop thinking of those awful moments when he didn’t know where Marlene was. And the moments with the green spells, when Sirius had been in danger. And the blood stains on the floor of the living room of Sirius and Remus’ flat, poorly cleaned.
But give him a break, it had all happened last night.
He wasn’t broken, just a little rattled. He’d be completely back to normal in no time.
Everybody nodded to Sirius, looks of determination on their faces.
Tension was nearly palpable. This was it. Now they’d know if the Mckinnon house had been completely obliterated, if Meadowes had escaped, if they’d be attacked again.
They were at least certain that nobody else entered the place; Marlene was purportedly brilliant at warding places.
“She’d have to be,” he had agreed, before they left the flat. “We had to teach ourselves how to fool the palace’s guards and shite to go play. When we were six she told my grandmother how she’d fool her castle’s defences and wards to get to her private rooms. And when we were thirteen she detailed minutely how she’d be able to kill every single one of us in our beds.”
“They made some changes after that,” Marlene had snorted.
“You threatened the Queen of the Kingdom with murder?” Sirius had laughed, his eyes shining with a mad sort of joy. “Everyday, I think I couldn’t admire you two more,” he’d said. “Have you tried your hands with wards?”
“I think I’d be better at fooling them than setting them up, actually. Marls is the proficient one with both.”
Even with that assurance, nobody felt actually at ease. Meadowes was strong, they’d said. Plus, she hadn’t been exactly gentle with Marlene.
The five of them stood in front of the large double doors of the library for a second, took a collective, settling breath, and charged out of the room.
In the end, it had been rather anticlimactic. Or at least he thought so.
Sirius seemed to share in that feeling. For Remus it had been more amusing than anything else.
Lily only rolled her eyes.
Marlene was sure it was a trap.
Remus performed a spell to determine if someone was in the building, though it was a half-hearted attempt.
The place had so many layers of magic etched into its walls, its very foundation, that it wouldn’t be as accurate, especially considering that there were already five other magical presences in the house, and that the homenum revelio spell only determined whether there was someone hiding inside a building. When the spell gave no conclusive results, the five of them had opened the door of the library, almost quietly, but quickly enough not to give Meadowes time to throw something at them or something.
The corridor was empty. As was the hall.
There was no noise but their echoing footsteps, five pairs of shoes tap, tapping on the polished floors, which were clean and dustless.
Tense, James took charge of the group, placing himself in front, expecting an assault, or something worse.
It was his fault that they were in this mess, the least he could do was to face it head on, and try, try, try to minimise damage for the others.
The eerie silence of the place spoke of emptiness, but he knew that it wasn't at all probable that Meadowes might have simply left. She had no wand, for one. And then there were the wards to contend with.
When they reached the other side of the corridor and peeked into the dining room, before he could open the door, Sirius pulled him back.
"Are you mental?" he demanded in a whisper, eyes ablaze with some sort of fury or, dare he believe it, fierce protectiveness. "You have no idea what's behind that door!"
He rolled his eyes and tried to continue, but Sirius had batted his hand away. The two had a bit of a silent wrestle until they came to a compromise of sorts. He'd still be in front of the group, but Sirius' wand would be at the ready right beside him. The other three shared noticeable exasperated sighs.
The dining room was empty.
The lack of noise was growing louder in his ears. He didn’t like any of this.
It seemed that Sirius, once again, felt the same way as him, for when they crossed the room, passed the table and the small bar, all the way through to the kitchen, they were walking side to side, as if to cover the other three with their bodies.
It was a ridiculous notion, really. To shield Remus, Sirius would probably have to sit on James' shoulders, the man was so tall. Besides, they were only two people, and the others were three. Under no circumstances would Sirius' slim frame be enough to shield Marlene, Lily and Remus, not even with himself by his side.
That didn't stop them from trying. In vain, as it turned out. The kitchen was also empty. They searched every cupboard, under every table and, later, all around the building. The place was empty. The upstairs was entirely untouched; not even the dust on the floor had been disturbed. Still, they checked the rooms and bathrooms, the wardrobes and even the ridiculously small boxes that Marlene’s mum kept in her ensuite.
A few times it had been suggested to separate, so as to cover more ground, but this was opposed every time, in a dark tone by Sirius, in a firmer one by Marlene.
James hadn’t argued for or against the idea, but he knew that he’d tie them all up to his own hands to prevent them from separating.
If it came to that, of course.
Eventually, everybody accepted that Meadowes wasn’t there.
Stood in a circle in the middle of the hall, a bit dejected, they tried, he assumed, to come up with some sort of… plan. Course of action.
“I thought this place would be more…” Lily began. Marlene exchanged an amused glance with James.
“More…?” he prompted.
“Rich?” Lily said.
“Grand,” Remus supplied.
“Historical,” she concluded.
Sirius snorted, “I think your status is being called into question, Mckinnon.”
“Yes, Sirius, I believe you’re right.”
“Oh, we didn’t mean–,”
“They might be spoiled, living at the Prince’s palace,” Sirius teased.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” James tutted, mock sadly.
Sirius cackled at that, looking exactly as Sirius should always look; entertained, smiling, laughing. Turning to watch how Lily’s and Remus’ faces got redder and redder with each remark, the room felt lighter. They teased them some more. As if that sense of foreboding that had oppressed them until then had finally uncoiled its tentacles from their throats.
Evidently bored with the jest, Marlene decided to end Remus’ and Lily’s torment, and said, “The place is old as fuck. Ancient, some say. It adjusts to the… customs of others. Sort of.”
“I–, what?!” Lily exclaimed. “It doesn’t always look like this?”
“Fuck no,” Marlene said. “That’s so boring. The house isn’t just a house. No magical building is. Why do you think Hogwarts changes so much?”
“But if it’s constantly adjusting to people then… how can we be sure that we searched everything?” she asked. Marlene groaned in exasperation.
“It’s a good question,” Sirius acknowledged absently, staring at James. His expression was expectant, almost as if he wanted him to explain.
James wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. Also, it was rather cruel to leave Lily and Remus out of the loop. They hadn’t been practically raised in this place. They were as new with it as he was with everything else Wizarding.
Oh, and he wanted to see Sirius’ expression when he managed to explain magical things to people who were already so acquainted with them.
It wasn’t his regular arrogance that drove him, not entirely. It was Sirius, who always looked so bloody proud of him. Sirius, whose face glowed with admiration for him, sometimes. And never for anybody else. Sirius, who was so breathtakingly beautiful when all that his eyes did was follow James as he talked.
So he was an attention whore. Sue him.
He took Sirius by the arm and walked with him around the hall, speaking all the while, detailing how the place was considerate enough to wait until it was empty or, if absolutely necessary, only occupied by people who were well acquainted with it, before moving its rooms and changing the decor. Marls interjected a few times, but he had it mostly covered by himself. He’d spent as much time here as Marlene had at the palace. They’d practically grown up in both places.
He swallowed the urge to ask Marlene why she’d moved.
He knew, of course, that after her dad died it had been too lonely here for her. All of her extended family had moved away when she’d been appointed head of the family. Every one of them denied it, but it was quite clear that they didn’t think she’d be capable of managing the Estate and other matters.
But Marlene had loved this house. It had been a sort of… third best friend to them. They were a group of three; the Prince, Marls, the house. It hurt to see it so lonely and sad. He was sure that the house missed them a little.
He shook himself out of his gloomy thoughts.
Him and Sirius reached the wide window, the one that overlooked the yard. An expanse of greens and browns, yellows and oranges on the ground, overgrown weeds looked wild and untamed, just like Marlene. Still, the sight made his heart ache a little. Marlene’s mum, Barbara, had always adored her garden. She and Monty had solidified their friendship that way, and it was rather common that the two families, the three Mckinnons and the three Potters, spent their afternoons tending to the garden, collecting ingredients for the ‘top secret projects that we don't tell mummy about’, helping her fix it.
She’d strangle Marlene if she could see it now.
“Merlin’s balls,” Sirius breathed out, as if someone had punched him in the stomach. James turned to face him, but he was looking straight outside, eyes fixed on the direction of the orchard.
The exclamation, as quiet as it’d been, brought the others to attention.
James chanced a look at the orchard too.
“Goodness, is that–?”
“Not a chance,” said Lily. “Is she…”
“Gardening?” finished Sirius and James in unison.
“What are you all looking–,” Marlene pushed them aside to look out of the window herself, “–at?” she ran out of the room, through the door and across the yard to the orchard.
It was embarrassing how long it took the rest of them to react, though it was no more than one or two seconds, and they all finally followed her.
“... in my house?!” Marlene was screaming.
“You brought me here,” Meadowes answered calmly, though her shoulders were tense, her eyes darting from Marlene to her friends, and back.
Even if Marlene was angry, which she was, James didn’t feel the presence of Meadowes as a threat. Neither did Sirius, nor the other two, if their amused, exasperated or annoyed faces were any indication.
“You could have left!” Marlene exclaimed. Meadowes looked more uneasy than Marlene, with good reason too.
“Not without my wand I couldn’t,” she said.
"You could've–," she scrambled for words, " not tended to the garden?!"
Sirius nudged James, both trying to contain a laugh.
He stepped forward, “how do you do?”
At that, Sirius and, to James’ surprise, Remus laughed.
“Oh, those Royal manners,” Sirius wiped a fake tear from his eye.
Meadowes looked stunned for one second, then answered, “feeling rather trapped, if you can believe it. You?”
Well. This wasn’t going at all like James imagined it would.
One did not make polite conversation with the person who attacked your best friend, right after ambushing your home.
Marlene frowned at her, then at him.
“A little wrongfooted,” he answered, “if you can believe it.”
“Potter, do not make polite conversation with the person who attacked your best friend right after ambushing your home!” Marlene chastised.
“Don’t let the person you kidnapped tend your garden then, Mckinnon,” Sirius said.
“Oh, right. Now I kill you,” Marlene said, as if just remembering what she was doing. It made him snort.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” said Lily, lowering Marlene’s hand. “How about a chat inside?” she proposed.
“I’m not working for Riddle,” was the first thing that Meadowes said when she’d sat down in the drawing room. Nobody else took a seat.
“Pull the other one, Meadowes,” Marlene mumbled, arms crossed. She looked very child-like, James had to suppress the urge to pinch her cheeks. He was much too fond of his fingers.
“I’m not lying,” she scowled at her. “I was spying on him,” she said to the others.
“Spying?” asked Remus.
Straightening, she said, “I have a friend. He was Riddle’s… ward? Pupil? I’m not sure. But he disappeared." After a brief glance in Sirius' direction, she looked straight at James, meaning behind her dark eyes. As if she knew. As if she was speaking of–, of Regulus. As though she knew he’d understand.
But Regulus was dead.
He was dead.
James had seen it in the paper.
‘Black heir, dead,’ it said. Aged nineteen, Regulus Black, dead.
Regulus was dead, and the last time he'd seen him he'd been strapped to a cold, hard table, trembling from fear and the effects of some spell or other that Riddle had used on him for whatever research he was conducting. Regulus had promised him, right then, that he'd help. That he'd come back. That they'd get rid of Riddle together.
Regulus had made him feel safe.
Regulus was dead.
'I have a friend.'
Riddle's pupil was dead.
He had disappeared after–, he had promised.
'He was Riddle's ward, pupil.'
He didn't realise he'd sat down, probably collapsed, on the settee. He didn’t feel his hands tremble, but he could see them, shaking so badly that they were blurry. Or maybe it was his eyes that were unfocused, as if he'd taken his glasses off.
He touched them, to make sure they were still perched on his nose, and they were, but his hands were unsteady, so now the glasses were crooked and he couldn’t right them.
Regulus was dead. He knew this.
So why had Meadowes said 'have' and not 'had'?
He ran a hand through his hair, but it was so clammy that it caught in the strands.
At once, he felt Sirius' presence to his right, Marlene's to his left. He'd know them everywhere.
He was fine.
"Disappeared?" he croaked, his voice too raspy to pretend that Meadowes' words hadn't affected him.
"About three years ago," she answered. "It was sudden. You know whom i'm talking about," she asserted. Not a question.
"I'm not sure," he said.
"Yes, you are," she said forcefully. She took a deep breath, as if to continue, but Marlene stopped her.
"Don’t talk to him that way," she said in a low, threatening tone. "Explain yourself."
Despite her clear anger towards Meadowes, Marlene's hand on his shoulder felt nice, comforting. His hands were still fidgeting with his sleeves and the fabric of the settee, though.
"There's not much to explain, really," she said uncomfortably.
As she spoke, Sirius leaned in and whispered in his ear, "do you need a moment?"
James shook his head, even if he desperately needed a break. He needed to think.
His mind was a minefield, he couldn’t think of Regulus without thinking of Riddle. He couldn’t think of Riddle without being reminded of the horrible things he did. The way that Sirius had been so close to being touched by the green jet of light. His own pain. His thoughts, invaded by a cruel hand, in the past, with spells, in the present, with memories.
"He–, my friend disappeared, I tracked Riddle down, joined him to find out more about… anything, really. And then you kidnapped me."
Marlene scoffed.
"She's being infuriating on purpose," said Remus in a low voice.
"Stop antagonising her, Marls, please," Lily tried. "She's not about to harm anyone right now."
James couldn’t focus on the conversation much. He heard the words, he knew what they meant. But every time someone spoke, the previous phrase got lost in the wind.
He felt a warm, solid thing fall in the palm of his hand. He started, a little, but quickly he realised it was a ring.
One of Sirius' rings, to be precise.
The one with the silly smiling skull on it. The skull had sunglasses on. They were almost sharp to the touch. He breathed a little easier.
A hand, Sirius' hand, dropped another ring on his palm, not taking the skull one back.
It was the one with the open book. It was thinner than the other one, but bigger. He fiddled with it, his hands much more steady now, until he saw that he could actually turn the page on the small book. On the first two pages, the inscription had read 'don't look', and the next two said 'behind you'. It was creepy, but absolutely hysterical. It was such a small way to mess with someone's head innocently. It was so, so Sirius.
He looked up from the rings to his face. That face that turned so, so soft sometimes. That face that held anger in its eyes, fire and destruction, but also warmth and comfort, depending on the situation.
He smiled, though he knew it came a little wobbly, and Sirius mirrored him.
"Better?" Sirius murmured, very quietly; almost a caress, his voice.
"Better," James confirmed, grabbing Sirius' hand and sliding each ring back into place. "Thank you."
He noticed that the room had quieted, and when he turned to look at the rest of the occupants, all of their eyes were fixed on the pair of them, expressions struck, even Meadowes'.
"Y–, you–," Marlene cleared her throat. "Your rings?" she asked perplexed, with a squeaky voice.
Sirius didn’t answer, he simply said, "you were saying, Meadowes?"
"I truly wish you lot would call me Dorcas. This Meadowes business is driving me insane," she complained. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll–,"
"I'm afraid you'll be doing nothing," Remus interrupted her. "We need answers."
"Easy there, Lupin," Lily interfered. "I'll confess, I've got no clue what's going on here and I, for one, truly, truly wish to find out. There are too many pieces and I–," she trailed off.
"You're not exactly alone in the sentiment," said Sirius.
"Start from the beginning," James suggested, though the last thing he wanted was to keep listening to her speak about Riddle and Regulus and all that shite. He wanted to go home. He wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep.
Everything was always brighter in the morning, his dad used to say.
So Dorcas did. She explained, amongst many interruptions from the group, how she had come to know her friend (by chance, at the horrid Selwyn annual gala, he hadn't attended Hogwarts), how they'd corresponded after that, how he'd seemed frantic the last time she'd seen him, how he'd disappeared without a trace.
All of this caused James to reflect on his own relationship with Regulus. How they too had met by chance, though instead of a party it was more that he was Regulus' homework. How he'd corresponded with Regulus too, except that they weren't usually separated by distance, but by the watchful eye of Doctor Riddle. How their own last encounter had been anything but tranquil. How Regulus had disappeared without a trace from him too, only a letter in his bedroom, an unsatisfactory explanation of why they couldn't be friends anymore, why he had to leave. His family, the letter had said, his family's expectations were more important. He had to honour his family's wishes. A family that he knew, they both knew, wasn't really a family at all.
It had hurt him more than he would have wanted to admit, the letter. Its detached tone, the words that cut deep. But it had been the sparse smidgens of genuine regret over ending their friendship that had torn James to pieces.
A cold, cold hand seemed to be wrapping itself around his very heart. Stop, he thought. I don’t want to remember anymore, he thought. He could almost feel the hand, squeezing, fingers digging into the muscle.
“What I don't understand,” Lily was saying, “when we arrived, we expected the place to be destroyed. You trying to escape. Or long gone, perhaps. Not you gardening, of all things. Why didn't you try to leave?”
Dorcas shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, I suppose… because I wanted to be here. I, er, sort of… needed your help?"
"Of course you did," Marlene scowled.
"Well, I knew I'd need you eventually," she said. "I mean. Your little project group, team, whatever," she said. "That’s why I sent you to the Prince," she said.
And everyone stilled.
" You sent us to the Prince?" Marlene laughed disdainfully. "The Ministry sent us."
"Who do you think put him at the top of the list?" Dorcas countered. "Who do you think made sure you saw the case?" she asked. "He needed protection and you four were the best I could find in such a short time. Marlene, I knew you were friends with the Prince."
"I take offence to that," Sirius protested. "We're the best you could find ever."
“How did you know that?” Marlene asked.
"Sure, Sirius," Dorcas answered him, ignoring Marlene. She was trying to get the rest of them to call her by her first name, and seemed to think her best bet was calling everyone by their first names.
Except James. He was 'sir' or 'the Prince' or 'him', when she wasn't addressing him directly.
He felt Sirius' arm as it fell around his shoulders instead, pulling him, only slightly, to his chest.
Distantly, he realised that he was mimicking the feeling in his heart, of claws trying to rip him apart, by digging his own fingers onto his thighs.
As usual, Sirius noticed it too.
Please look away, he thought.
"We're taking a break," Sirius announced. "Go away."
James almost laughed. Sirius was so authoritative with people that it tended to be comical.
He didn't laugh, however.
He knew what the break was about.
It was about him.
He was fine.
But he wasn't, really. Of course he wasn't. And Sirius had noticed. More than noticed, actually. And now he'd have to talk about it with Sirius.
He didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to go away. To rip his skin open, so all these feelings could be washed away from him. He wanted to let go, to scream, to forget.
But Sirius would never let him. He knew that much. Also, he wanted… to explain himself, perhaps. It might be nice to have someone who knows, he thought.
Thankfully, it didn't feel as though he owed Sirius an explanation; it was merely that easy to talk to him. To explain.
Sirius would understand.
Everybody vacated the room, but when he didn’t speak, Sirius started, quiet, quiet as the breeze, "I lost my brother, years ago."
James' furrowed his brow, a little confused. He hadn’t meant for Sirius to have to open up about things that–, things that he might not want to discuss. "You don't need to–,"
"I know I don't, but I know what loss looks like," he said, with eyes that were so, so earnest, and so, so Sirius that he felt a twinge in his chest, as if maybe, just maybe, it was alright to trust a little, if he made some space in his heart for Sirius, perhaps he wouldn’t rip it apart too. "And I know how it feels… not to get closure. I don't pretend to know, or, or understand–," he stammered.
"He was my friend," James explained softly. "I didn't really grow up with him, but I did. In a way at least, I suppose. When Doc–, when Riddle did whatever he used to do, he'd be right outside the door, waiting for sessions to be over. Incentive, I suppose. We were tentative, at first. But back then it wasn’t–, I genuinely cared for him. And I thought…"
"You thought he cared for you, too?" Sirius interrupted, speaking gently.
"Well, yes. I did," he answered. Sirius' face was a mask of pity and some hidden pain of his own, starting to show through the cracks on his façade. He fought the urge to make Sirius smile. It was better if he brooded for a little while. It was rather clear that Sirius rarely spoke of his brother, and what he'd said… he hadn't just been speaking on James' behalf; Sirius had felt that way too, at some point. He knew that it’d be wrong to force Sirius to speak, to turn the conversation around, even if it was the one thing that might make it more bearable. If Sirius was to open up for him, he’d have to show Sirius that he was willing to do the same first. That it was safe.
“I haven’t had–, I mean, for years, I ran from relationships because I thought–, not that it was ever romantic with him, or anything, but I thought, if someone who… cared about me, supposedly, of course, could do that to me, leave me alone after they’d promised –, then…”
Sirius grabbed his hand, firmly, but not hard. A grounding touch.
He attempted a lighthearted chuckle, and missed by a hundred, “Marlene always says, you know, I’m a ‘boyfriend’ type. And she’s not wrong, actually. I adore relationships, romantic, platonic, anything. I adore having friends and making friends. But ever since he left, I–, I don’t know. My last partner called me a ‘good sport’ but ‘not emotionally invested enough’. I feel that I can never find the balance. I’m always too much, if I’m myself, or too little, if I try to protect what’s left of me.” He trailed off for a second, not knowing why he’d said all that. Wondering what sort of magic Sirius had that made him want to bare his soul to him.
“You could never be too much, Jamie,” Sirius whispered. James willed himself not to preen at the nickname. “Nor too little. I’d never wish for more, or less of you.”
James shook himself.
"I'm sorry, I don't–, I've got no idea why it's affecting me so much. I know my friend's dead; Meado–, I mean, Dorcas could be trying to–, I don't know. Mess with my head. I'm sorry,"
Sirius searched his face incredulously, but when he, seemingly, didn't find what he was looking for, he said, "you're apologising again. Don't apologise for feeling," he squeezed his arm, eyes full of understanding. "Sometimes the smallest reminders make us crumble."
James chuckled darkly, "I know. For a long time after–, after Riddle resigned, I sort of… suppressed all of it. All the years of treatments and studies. The last note he left me, saying that he–, that he needed to go away, leave me, for his family. Almost every part of it was buried so deep in the back of my mind. And it worked quite… well, actually–,"
"Oh, James," Sirius winced, as if he knew what was coming in the story.
"And then one day, as any other day, an obituary caught my eye," he continued. Though it had been more of an announcement than a solemn report. Voice trembling, he recited it, "Black Heir, dead at nineteen." he took a steadying breath and continued, "That's when the nightmares started. The–, the isolation, I think Marlsly calls it. I think–, no, I know that's what trigg–," here, he was interrupted by Sirius, making a sort of strangled noise. "Si?" he tried, but the boy's eyes were unfocused. He seemed to be holding his breath, pale as a ghost. "Sirius?" he asked, a little louder this time. He placed one hand on Sirius' shoulder, the other one on Sirius' neck. "Sirius, Si, is everyt–, just breathe, yes? Breathe,"
Sirius was about to freak out, he was sure. He'd seen him like this before. He knew that if he didn’t intervene, Sirius'd start changing colours fast.
By instinct, nothing else, he raised Sirius’ hand to his chest and breathed in, possibly more than was normal, but he needed SIrius to understand how to–, how to breathe.
“Take a breath,” he told him. “Like this,” he repeated the action.
But he couldn’t reassure him. He didn’t know what had set Sirius off; he’d been speaking about Regulus, too preoccupied with himself to really pay attention to the change in Sirius. Selfish, selfish twat, he chastised himself. Last night, at least, he’d been sure that the panic had been brought on by Marlene suggesting that they leave the flat, which he could oppose, he could contradict that notion, they would stay at the flat together.
This time? It seemed random. But it couldn’t be.
Calming a little, but not by much, Sirius choked out, “the Black Heir?”
James nodded, a sense of foreboding washing over him.
“Regulus?” Sirius asked, in that same strangled voice. James’ eyes grew as big as plates, he had the feeling that, had they opened one millimetre wider, they would have fallen off. “Regulus Black?” Sirius insisted.
“Ye–, yes, that’s–, that was his name,” he answered finally.
Sirius, looking so pale that his lips lacked any colouration, his blue eyes glinting, broken glass, hidden depths, tried to clear his throat. “My name is Sirius Black. Regulus Black was my brother.”